


Rattle

by emilyenrose



Category: Classical Greece and Rome History & Literature RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-03
Updated: 2011-03-03
Packaged: 2017-10-16 02:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilyenrose/pseuds/emilyenrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cleopatra calculates the odds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rattle

**Author's Note:**

> I've been pretty liberal with timelines here, just pretend it all fits together!

"So tell me what is happening at Rome, stranger."

Cleopatra leans her chin on her hand and smiles. She is not a pretty girl. Her skin is much too dark for modern fashions, and her nose is too long for her face. Her teeth are a little bit crooked and her eyes are startlingly light, almost storm-coloured, the only piece of her looks she's inherited from her royal Macedonian forbears. Among Rome's smart young matrons she would look as much out of place as a raven among doves.

On the other hand, Quintus Clemens reflects, the court of Alexandria would eat most of Rome's smart young ladies in one gulp. The place is another crocodile, just like the sacred monsters of the Nile which are twelve feet of armour and terror and teeth. Cleopatra is a plain little slip of a girl, but something about her light eyes, her sly smile, says: I have spent my whole life wrestling the crocodile, and the crocodile is still hungry.

Clemens is a successful middle-aged businessman. He's been picking up the odd penny on the side by reporting City gossip to fascinated foreigners for years. It's easy to feel superior to most of them. They might be opulent Asians or soldierly Dacians or arrogant Libyans or wealthy Phoenicians, but Clemens didn't get rich without knowing how to smell fear. It doesn't matter how proudly a petty-king carries himself or how elegantly he sneers; the greatest of them looks at the growing shadow of Rome's power and is afraid. A Roman citizen these days can look anyone in the eye.

Except, apparently, little Cleopatra, because Clemens finds himself avoiding her pale gaze.

The Egyptian succession is as contentious and poisonous as always - Clemens checked the odds on his way through the docks, listening to greasy Egyptian bookies listing the surviving Ptolemies and leading Alexandrian politicians in order of their chances of survival. This girl was high on the list of likely survivors, but not the favourite for queen. The bookies, Clemens finds himself thinking as he repeats the latest gossip under her sharp gaze, haven't met her.

He finishes with the latest news on Caesar, the dispatches from Gaul, the squabbles with the Conservatives. "And the old guard are nervous that he's going to try for another magistracy," he finishes, "and end up legally immune before they can force the corruption trial through."

Cleopatra is still watching him. "Is he corrupt?" she says.

"No more than anyone else, ma'am. But he's getting too powerful, that's what they're afraid of."

Cleopatra nods. "Your city has a strange way of dealing with its successes. What kind of a man do you think Julius Caesar is?"

Clemens swallows. Unaccountably, he's sweating. It's too hot in Alexandria, that's what it is.

"Shall I tell you what I think?" Cleopatra curls her legs up into her chair. She moves smoothly, like a cat or a snake. "He is a successful general, so he must be commanding and clever. A Roman, so he must be arrogant. And a man, so naturally he is more arrogant still. I know he once hunted down every single man of a crew of pirates that ransomed him and had them all crucified - so he is ruthless. And I know he whored for the King of Bithynia when he was a boy - so he is daring, perhaps more daring than wise."

There's a moment's silence. Clemens flounders. "But you believe he'll be successful, ma'am," he says.

"Oh yes," says Cleopatra. "And when he's won the whole world he'll risk it all again just to hear the dicebox rattle. He has a gambler's soul." Her pale eyes are bright and distant for a few seconds, then she seems to remember where she is. "And are you a gambler, Quintus Clemens? A betting man, maybe?"

"I - occasionally," the businessman manages. "I -"

"You checked the odds on me when you went through the docks, I know." Clemens nearly chokes. "Oh no, I quite understand - why do business with someone who's going to lose? I'd do the same. But if you want to be wealthy beyond imagining, do you know what you should do?" Cleopatra smiles impishly. "Take your fortune and stake it. Bet on Caesar to rule the world. They'll give you fourteen to one odds."

"And what are you going to do when Rome rules the world?" Clemens says despite himself.

Cleopatra laughs. "I said Caesar, Caesar, not Rome! Oh, if you want a better bet than that - fine, friend Roman. Remember this next time you come to gamble. Bet on Caesar to rule the world - but Cleopatra to rule Egypt."

Clemens escapes the interview shaking and sweating. The Alexandrian evening is a welcome relief, and Cleopatra's gold a welcome weight in his money-bag.

It's only an impulse that leads him to step into the betting shop. Inside it's dusky and dank. The odds are fourteen to one, exactly as Cleopatra promised.


End file.
